Kalaki's Korner

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Wednesday, May 7, 2014

I had been
snoozing. I opened one eye, only to find a small crowd of people around the
bed. Then I remembered where I was. I was in Ward C21 at the UTH, waiting for
the operation tomorrow. I opened the
other eye. I could see immediately that the people around my bed were my
regular readers. All seven of them. I looked at them angrily. ‘Who told you I
was in here?’

‘It’s
not a secret that you’re in here,’ said Sally Chawama, ‘There’s even a story in
today’s Daily Nation saying Kalaki says
goodbye to all his readers as he leaves Kalaki’s Korner.

‘So
if I’ve already said goodbye,’ I snapped, ‘what are you all doing here? You
want me to say goodbye again. Goodbye. Shalenipo. I’m off!’ I pulled the
blanket over my head.

‘That’s
no way to talk to us,’ retorted Stella Sata. ‘All the years we’ve been reading
you and then you just up and off like you don’t even care! And daddy’s very
annoyed, he says you’re the only columnist who really understands him.’

‘Stella,’
I said, ‘what nonsense you do talk. If anybody understands your daddy it’s only
you, the rest of us are completely mystified.’

‘You’re
being very rude and most unfair,’ snapped Ruth Henson, who never minces her
words. ‘The story in this morning’s paper says that you’ve left Kalaki’s
Korner, and that you’re in the UTH for a serious operation. We’re very
concerned. We want to know what’s wrong with you.’

I
popped up out of the blanket and pointed a finger at Ruth. ‘I know your little
farm is boring, with nothing to do except talk to the goats, and that you
farmers count hospital visiting as a form of high entertainment, but you can’t
come here asking me what’s wrong with me. I’m not one of your damn goats to be
given a medical examination!’

‘Tut
tut,’ said Dodson Siabwanta, as he turned in amazement to Mwila Zaza, ‘this
fellow is just as insolent in real life as he is on the page!’

‘I
knew that already,’ cackled Mwila, ‘He’s probably been at the brandy again. In
fact you can be sure that’s why he’s in here. He’s got an enlarged liver.
That’s what happens when you get hooked on the brandy.’

‘You
can’t just all stand there talking to each other as if I’m not here!’ I shouted
angrily.

‘Why
not?’ sneered Symon Zulu, looking round at the other beds. That’s what all the
other visitors are doing, so why should we be any different?’

‘More
likely it’s an enlarged belly,’ declared Hope Nyambe as she unceremoniously
prodded me through the blanket. ‘Look at the size of his gut! There could be
all sorts of suspicious enlargements in there.’

‘It’s
definitely not an enlarged heart,’ laughed Stella. ‘This old man is famously
mean with his money.’

‘If
it’s not an enlarged liver,’ declared Dodson, ‘it’s more likely an enlarged
prostate. He’s just about the right age for that sort of thing. That’s why he
doesn’t want to tell us what’s wrong. These old men will never admit that their
equipment isn’t working.

‘Shut
up, shut up, shut up!’ I sat up and shouted. ‘If you must know, the problem is
that I’ve been suffering from an enlarged sense of humour.’

‘What
nonsense,’ retorted Ruth. ‘It’s us that suffer from your sense of humour, not
you.’

‘Look,’
I growled, ‘my job was to use my sense of humour to criticize politicians by
making them look ridiculous. But with this current batch, it just wasn’t
working.’

‘Why
not?’ wondered Sally. ‘Are they not ridiculous?’

‘Of
course they’re all entirely ridiculous,’ I admitted. ‘But the main problem is
that they are extremely dangerous. While I have been making people laugh at
them, I have deflected attention from the serious threat they pose to the
nation.’

‘So
you need an operation?’

‘You
see, as my sense of humour has become enlarged, so it has squeezed all the
other critical organs. My heart has been squeezed smaller, leaving me with
diminished moral sense. My brain has been squeezed, limiting my analytical
abilities. My nails can no longer scratch, my teeth can no longer bite, and my
eyes are now so faded that I can see only the laughable and not the disastrous.
My sense of humour has become so enlarged that it has encroached on all my
other senses! I have no option but to have it amputated! First thing tomorrow
morning!’

The
next evening they all came to see me again. They found me sitting up in bed,
glass of brandy in hand, reading the Complete
Works of Jurgen Habermas.

‘My
God!’ exclaimed Mwila, ‘this is very disappointing! We expected you to be still
in a coma, and on a drip!’

‘Don’t
interrupt me,’ I hissed, ‘I’m on the crucial chapter of Legitimation Crisis.’

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Last Saturday night Sara and I
were at the Playhouse to see the Lusaka Musical Society’s latest masterpiece – ‘Let
Them Yap’. As the curtain rose, there in
the middle of the stage, on his gold throne, sat the magnificent Emperor of Zed.
He was wearing his shimmering golden Chinese suit, a glittering crown on his
head, as he looked down imperiously upon his domain.

As the orchestra in the pit struck
up with a jolly tune, the Emperor rose to his feet and burst into song:

I am the Emperor of the Promised Land,

My promises are very grand.

I am an autocratic democrat,

I sit and order this and that.

And if they say I can’t do that,

I don’t care! Let them yap!

As he was singing, a motley crowd
of people dressed in rags had gathered at the foot of the golden steps leading
to the golden throne. And they answered the Emperor with their own song:

You are the Emperor of the Promised Land,

Your promises slip away like sand.

You promised a constitution new

Not a constitutional stew.

You cannot give us that,

This is crap! This is crap!

But the Emperor answered them,
singing:

To ‘fifty percent plus one’ I can agree

But only if that one is me!

I much prefer ‘first past the post’,

If it’s me that gets the most!

I promised freedom of expression

Except for those in opposition.

And freedom to assemble anywhere

Except in any public square.

So be careful where you yap

Lest you walk right in my trap

But the good people of Zed were
not impressed:

You promised you’d save the kwacha,

But the kwacha came a cropper.

You promised all prosperity,

But all we have is poverty.

You are the Emperor of Zed,

But all your promises are dead.

Now the Emperor looked a bit sad,
and tried to explain himself…

I promised more hospitals, but the curse is,

I have no medicines, doctors or
nurses.

As all my promises slip away,

I have other things to fill my day.

As my ambition grows and grows

I just build more roads and roads.

Roads to here and roads to there,

I build roads everywhere.

But as he was singing, a gang of
thugs in fake military uniforms and red berets came shouting into the palace, and
the protesters ran screaming for their lives. The audience clapped and cheered,
shouting ‘More! More!’

So now the Golden Emperor walked
to the front of the stage, danced a little jig, and then sang a confidential
little song for our additional entertainment:

I promise employment for the youth,

Especially those long in the tooth.

I’ll put an end to all corruption,

But for my friends I’ll make
exception.

The rule of law I will preserve,

Except for laws which don’t deserve.

I grant to women the freedom to be
bold,

So long as they do as they’re told.

The number of my ministers will be
fewer,

Except for those coming from the
sewer.

Once a year I’ll meet the press,

Once a year, more or less.

I shall maintain law and order,

Except for panga mayhem and murder.

And I grant to all the right to yap!

Let them yap! Let them yap! Let them
yap!

He danced a little jig as the
curtain came down, and we all stood up and clapped and cheered.

‘It’s all so easy in the theatre’
said Sara. ‘But in real life, it’s a big problem to bring down the curtain.’

Michael: My
Lady, so many people wanted to kidnap my girlfriend, the beautiful
Constitution. My lady, I had sworn to protect my Constitution, but I had
enemies who wanted to abduct her and misuse and abuse her. So when I heard a
noise from the bathroom, My Lady, I was terrified. In the pitch black of the
night, I picked up my gun, then picked up my legs, and moved stealthily to the
bathroom.

Kalaki Nel: Mr
Pistorius, who are these enemies you are so afraid of?

Michael: They
are so many, My Lady. But the worst is Technical Committee. He has sworn to steal
my Constitution from me, and subject her to his will and base lusts and
desires, and to turn her into his slave. My Lady, I had to protect my beautiful
Constitution.

Kalaki Nel: And
tell, Mr Pistorius, why were you so in love with your Constitution?

Michael: My
lady, when I am with my Constitution I am a real man. She gives me my power. With
my beautiful Constitution everybody looks up to me, I command the universe, and
people obey my every command. This Technical Committee wanted to steal my
power.

Kalaki Nel: So
now, without your Constitution, you are a broken man?

Michael: Yes,
My Lady. (Sobs for a couple of minutes
into his handkerchief)

Kalaki Nel: OK,
so now you reach for your gun and make for the bathroom. Was Constitution lying
on the bed?

Michael: No,
My Lady, she was not on the bed.

Kalaki Nel: Ha
ha, how do you know that? You said the night was pitch black!

Michael: She
always slept under the bed, My Lady, she was so afraid of Technical Committee.

Kalaki Nel:
So did you look under the bed to check if she was there?

Michael: Yes,
My Lady. But I couldn’t see her because the night was pitch black.

Kalaki Nel: So
you went to the bathroom door and fired four shots straight through it.

Michael: Yes,
My Lady. I had to protect my Constitution.

Kalaki Nel: Did
anybody scream?

Michael: Yes
My Lady, I screamed because I was terrified. Then I screamed at Constitution to
phone the Panga Force on 991. But she didn’t reply. It was then that I became
terrified that I had shot my beloved Constitution.

Kalaki Nel: Then you went
and got your panga and hacked a hole in the door, only to find our beautiful
Constitution blown to pieces, with blood all over the bathroom floor.

Now
a court official obligingly placed a green plastic bucket in front of Michael,
so that he could have a prolonged vomit. After he had finally recovered himself
the cross-examination continued…

Kalaki Nel: I put it to
you, Mr Pistorius, that you have misled this court. I put it to you that our
beloved Constitution did not come to your house of her own free will, but you
kidnapped her and brought her to your house.

Michael: No,
My Lady, it’s not true. I always respected my beloved Constitution, she came to
my house to give me a Valentine’s present.

Kalaki Nel: I
put it to you, Mr Pistorius, that you wanted an opportunity to accuse her of breaking
her promises to you. You were jealous because she had left you and was instead
dating Technical Committee. And you were also in a rage because Technical
Committee had transformed her by the power of love. She was so now so beautiful
and so admired by everybody that she became known as People’s Constitution. But
you were so jealous that you kidnapped her, to get her back.

Michael: It’s
not true, My Lady. I never kidnapped her. She came to visit me because she
loved me.

Kalaki Nel: I
put it to you, Mr Pistorius, that you had a shouting match with Constitution
that night, because you had fallen into a jealous rage after she left you for
Technical Committee. When she refused to come back to you, you threatened her
with a gun.

Michael: No,
My Lady. That was not possible. I loved my Constitution.

Kalaki Nel: And
when she tried to run away from you, and locked herself in the bathroom, you
fired through the door and murdered her.